Unforseen Affliction
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Long ago, Shockwave launched an experiment to test the depths of attachment similar to a creator and his creation. Much to the Decepticon's surprise, the attachment proves true. But when he loses his creation, that fixation turns into obsession...
1. Chapter 1

Title: Unforeseen Affliction (1/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Fandom: G1.

Rating: Mature. Slash hints.

Pairing: Shockwave/Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: This fic deals with a significant deal of psychological extremes: obsession, paranoia, rage, and wrath; mainly Shockwave's out of norm behavior resolving around one of his earliest creations, and the loss of his creation. Some readers may be a little bit uncomfortable with Shockwave's behavior, mainly his mounting obsession and, shall we say, developing insanity…

Author's Note: The first chapter is purposely disjointed. Memory files from their time on Cybertron.

* * *

Shockwave keeps only a handful of projects outside of Lord Megatron's notice. Simply because certain projects were not worthy of the warlord's attentions; Lord Megatron's focus needed elsewhere after cutting Sentinel Prime down and leaving Cybertron's guard in tatters.

His loyal soldier's private projects were of no concern, and Shockwave intended to keep it that way.

All for the best, since Shockwave would bemoan leaving his current undertaking as such a critical time; as of right now, the Guardian's most recent project was in its earliest phase.

Curiously, a gold optic intently focuses upon the thick, upstanding test tube. Within the warm pulse of bubbling clear liquid, a tiny being curls in a tight fetal position, little face slack in repose as the tiny creation slumbers.

Shockwave's lens narrow, cataloguing the various data, attention never straying from upon his creation. This latest project is a minor curiosity, at best. Simply, he wonders…

Why, on a handful of occasions, that mechs and femmes threw themselves over their creations…their _sparklings_…protecting them from Decepticon soldiers…

Why, then, risk injury onto themselves, screaming and begging for mercy, clinging onto their shrieking creations as the soldiers tear the tiny creatures away. Such fragile _things_, barely capable of surviving on their own without the attention of their creators or sires.

What a useless thing to sacrifice one's frame, to waste one's _Spark_ to defend.

This peculiar attachment between a Cybertronian and sparkling, unlike anything Shockwave has experienced, intrigues him. The guardian sets out to explore this instinctive drive, hardwired into Autobot and Neutral alike, and the rare few Decepticon sires or creators.

So he takes the necessary steps…by first devising a computer sequence. Starting with a single hardwire component and the random personality programs that suit his requirements. Building and building from the scrap piece up. Patiently filling his night cycles by delicately soldering the frame together, fusing the capillaries and energon tubes. Pooling the trembling Spark into the tiny frame, cautiously watching to make certain that the bead of light doesn't flicker and die.

His patience and fortitude is rewarded, and now he is looking at his creation, capable of fitting within the palm of his hand. What essential began as a computer sequence inputted with a sentient program, growing and developing like a normal Cybertronian.

A sparkling…

Shockwave hums with attention. Recording the data, watching for every twitch and moue of expression as the little being continues to develop, until the Guardian is completely satisfied and ready to continue onto the next phase…

Perhaps if his creation survived the process, he would feel required to assign it a designation…

* * *

His creation has remained online for several cycles. Shockwave left most of its maintenance to his drones. The mechanized servants programmed when to supply the sparkling with energon.

Yet not too long after, one of his drones bleats in alarm, urgently pinging for the Guardian's attention.

The sparkling is in distress, and nothing the drones are doing appear to draw a response.

Shockwave calmly strides into the room housing his creation. Within the low, cramped box acting as a pen, the sparkling is propped against the wall. Ginger optics dull and lifeless, with its thin stick like arms hanging between its curled legs.

"What Is This, Then?" Shockwave demands. Seeing no problem besides the sparkling appearing lethargic.

The drone waves its spindly arms. Shrilling that the sparkling is near catatonic, deprived of attention and touch. Its system functions steadily declining as it wallows in ache and loneliness.

Shockwave scoffs at the notion, "Loneliness?" The Guardian leans down, plucking the limp red and cobalt sparkling up, holding it at optic level by the scruff of its breakable neck, "What Could This Thing Possibly Understand, Or Concern Itself With Such Emotions?"

The tiny sparkling's ginger optics hum with a fraction of life. The microscope's helm shakily lifting, a pathetic whimper trickling from between dark lips.

Shockwave's sensors discourage him by noting that the sparkling's temperature is far lower than he would be partial to. Sighing at the distraction from his other projects, the Guardian cradles the shivering sparkling against his chassis. His drone beeping and bumping into his heels as he returns to his monitor station, overseeing the recorded feed from earlier scuffles with the Autobot resistance.

Seated once again in front of the massive screens, Shockwave tucks the curled sparkling against his chassis, directly above his Spark. He notices how his creation snuggles in tighter, whimpering beneath the breath of its vents as it curls close, cradled by the Guardian's one hand.

Shockwave does not deign to notice how the sparkling immediately shuts down into recharge, the first restful period in its short existence since it gulped unhindered atmosphere through its vents once freed from its large test tube, the weightless bobbing cradle it had known for so long.

His drones share the new data with the Guardian once the sparkling onlines once more.

* * *

Over the coming vorn, he takes more time to travel to his creation's sparse room. Picking the young being up from its little box and carrying him, holding the shivering frame against his chassis. His processor strangely possessing the proper files and command sequences that urge the Guardian to hold the sparkling against the warmth of his frame.

If the rare Decepticon notes that the Guardian carries a silent, recharging sparkling while Shockwave is at work or surveying his scattered projects, then they do not comment on the anomaly.

* * *

He begins to notice a peculiar behavior.

His creation appeared extremely sensitive to Shockwave's moods; more so than the Guardian was aware of his own frame of mind and the way in which his massive body carried and expressed his disposition.

After a particularly sour meeting with one of his squad commanders, the mech listing the damages to their unit and the loss of energon storage cubes, Shockwave remained in his stationed seat; fingers drumming angrily upon the armrest as he contemplates the loss of soldiers and precious energy.

In his lap, his creation stirs, as if answer to his raised ire. Clicking in worry, the little microscope pushes onto his knees, stretching forward and butting his helm against Shockwave's hand.

Paused by the sudden gesture, Shockwave turns his optic towards his creation's actions.

Again his creation butts his hand. Shockwave's hand uncurls as tiny fingers clutch at one much larger finger, clinging onto the large mech.

When Shockwave's fingers unintentionally brush an audio, the microscope shivers, mewling in pleasure. The Guardian hesitates, before laying his hand on his creations' helm. Petting the small being, earning a soft sigh from the little one.

He traces his hand down the little sparkling's helm, running down his back, idly petting the creation, not realizing that his stress levels begin to slowly drop while the sparkling curls upon his lap, small back rising and falling smoothly as his tiny systems rumble with pleasure as his creator graces him with his touch and attention.

* * *

"Guardian Shockwave?" His drones inquire, "Designation Has Been Assigned To Young Creation?"

"Confirmed," Shockwave addresses his unit of drones. The time long past to assign his creation a designation, having long ago earned the privilege after remaining online and with systems in optimal condition, "Designation:_ Perceptor_."

* * *

He takes great care to always monitor Perceptor's education. The data pads, the history files…Shockwave is abhorred that much of the Academy's data files are corrupted or locked tight within the main computers, far beyond his reach at the moment.

Therefore he makes great efforts to carefully administer the proper data files that he can salvage or personally upload, seeing that the microscope is properly administered with an education suitable with his developmental age.

His creation surprises him with his avidness to learn. Perceptor surrounds himself with a sea of data pads, the microscope initially frowning and staring at the complicated rivers of text and images, hands kneading the taunting blue surfaces and the mysteries that lay tucked away.

Shockwave patiently teaches the maturing youngling how to read. Along the way, he also teaches his creation to read Ancient Cybertronian, wishing for Perceptor to be well diverse in the old language that very few young Cybertronians bothered to study.

Perceptor wrestles a particularly large data pad into his lap, tottering under its weight. Shockwave bends down onto one knee, supporting him with his hand acting as a solid wall against the microscope's back strut.

Face twisted in consternation, Perceptor wriggles and bests the large data pad into proper alignment. Sighing in contentment, his creation fiddles with the key pads, pulling up the latest window in order to continue with his lesson from earlier. Tilting his helm back and smiling and his creator, squeaking and trilling up towards Shockwave's benevolent face.

* * *

From what the data records have supplied, Perceptor is well into the developmental age where he should be making efforts to speak. However, his creation shows little interest in emitting words or phrases, regardless of the fact that his processor and vocoder are finally capable of producing such a talent.

Perhaps a glitch, then? Shockwave ponders the conundrum, watching Perceptor tinker with a discarded pile of metal and computer disks.

In the back of his processor, Shockwave rearranges his schedule, inputting a maintenance check to ascertain the condition of his creation.

* * *

Shockwave steps back, observing Perceptor. The youngling, still shaky on his developing legs, totters over to a malfunctioning drone, the servant unit spasming, hands scrabbling to remove a jagged piece of debris from its back strut, the scraggly mass of metal debris entangled around sensitive neural sensors and disrupting its movements.

The Guardian is aware that his creation has a high degree of empathy, even for the…less sentient of beings. While Shockwave would not bother to waste his time in repairs when the drone is not suffering a catastrophic failure, Perceptor persists in aiding the drone, carefully tugging the debris free.

Murmuring small chirps and then a shrill cry of excitement as the drone beeps an affirmative, saluting its master, Shockwave, and his much smaller creation, before the servant returns to its tasks that had been hindering by its repetitious and mad racing in wild circles around the room while grasping for the debris cluster in its paneling.

Shockwave deigns to bend down and inspect the debris that Perceptor retrieved from the hapless drone when the youngling chirps for his attention, holding out the metal laced pile for the Guardian's inspection.

"Very Good, Perceptor." Shockwave ordains.

Perceptor smiles beatifically up towards his creator, ginger optics alight.

* * *

Without his notice, Shockwave is more frequently rearranging his schedule to perform maintenance on his creation. Hardly necessary, given that Perceptor suffered no glitches or damage.

However, for some strange reason, Shockwave encountered a trace of pleasure in assuring himself that his creation's frame remains warm to the touch and not a dull, chilling gray. Pressing a hand over the microscope's Spark, ascertaining that the life force beat true.

* * *

"Am I…malfunction?"

Shockwave raises his helm from surveying the recent battle charts. "Where Did You Learn Such A Word?" The Guardian finds the label beyond distasteful, especially when emitted from his creation's vocoder.

Perceptor, standing on his pedes now reaches a height close to Shockwave's hip, stands before his creator with his hands twisted together. "I..do not look like you. Nor…the drones." His creation stutters, an unusual degree of shyness constantly plaguing his creation, no matter how often Shockwave studied the behavior and tried to rectify it. "Am I a mistake? Am I…the only one who looks like this?" He gestures to his dark face and ginger optics.

"Your Eye Color, Perhaps. Design: Yes."

"Am I a Cybertronian?"

"Yes…" But Shockwave pauses, "But No."

"…oh.." Perceptor wilts before him.

The Guardian sighs, realizing that his error and pause is causing his creation undue distress. "Come Here." Shockwave holds out his hand in command.

Perceptor steps forward, unresisting as Shockwave wraps his hand around his waist, lifting the youngling up to lie upon his lap. Perceptor immediately curling up, resting his helm on his folded hands, listening to the steadying churn of his creator's systems and fuel tank.

"Do Not Concern Yourself With Such Thoughts." Shockwave pets his upset creation, patiently soothing the little one's rattled processor, "There Is Not Point In Dwelling On Such Things. You Are My Creation. That Is All That Matters."

"……" Perceptor buries his face against the smooth paint of Shockwave's hand, nuzzling for more attention, "..and you are mine, too?"

Shockwave tilts his helm to ponder the question. "I Am Your Creator. Just As You Are My Creation. To Answer Your Question…Yes."

"…'kay." Perceptor happily burrows deeper into Shockwave's lap, prepared to make himself comfortable for the duration that Shockwave allows his creation to remain within close proximity.

* * *

"What are Autobots?" Perceptor presses his hands against the glass, mesmerized by the fireworks of laser shots and the Seekers and triple changers taking to the air, raining fire upon the scattered throng of ground vehicles.

"They Are The Enemy." Shockwave answers.

"What is enemy?"

"Opposition. Threat. Aggressor."

Perceptor frowns. "Should I be afraid?"

"No." Shockwave leads his creation away from the large bay windows, wishing to pull him out of sight as the skirmish draws closer to the small tower, the Autobot fools discovering one of the Guardian's spare labs hidden deep within the city. "We Will Return To Our Base Now. The Autobots Have Discovered This Lab. This Is Only A Minor Loss."

* * *

Perceptor does not resist when Shockwave pulls him into his secured recharge quarters. The Guardian wants his creation to remain close by, his composure unsettled by the uprising of Autobot attacks, his observation tower shuddering under the rain of attacks, Shockwave restless with the feel of his base appearing utterly defenseless.

A foolish scrap of thought to ever cross his processor. The tower was his greatest achievement in offense and defense. The Autobots risked losing many if they were foolish enough to dare to raze the Decepticon stronghold.

Nevertheless, Shockwave felt this peculiar curling of…_fear_.

Not for himself, but for his creation.

Perceptor wiggles to try to make himself comfortable as his creator's arms tighten, drawing slightly uncomfortable around him, but the microscope does not try to escape. Curling into Shockwave's embrace, small worrying clicks escaping, hiding his face against the Guardian's large chassis as the thunder of falling bombs strike the tower's shields.

* * *

It is of no surprise when Soundwave learns of his project.

Shockwave is not overly concerned. The technopath is mildly curious at best, wishing to see for himself the progress that the Guardian has made.

The Guardian growls low underneath his vents, however, when Soundwave's Cassettes become even more curious. Rumble and Frenzy peeking at the youngling, while Perceptor nervously steps away from them, his footfalls mirrored by the shorter Cybertronians. The twins creating a game of following his creation, while Ravage tests her olfactory sensors, pondering the unusual scents of the microscope, her tail flicking left and right, but she patiently remains at Soundwave's side.

Soundwave lays his hand on Shockwave's wrist to forestall the Guardian in interceding as the young mech and the smaller Cassettes move in a circle around the table in the room, "Creation: Must Learn To Adapt. Mingle With Fellow Cybertronians." Soundwave turns a baleful glance towards the larger mech, "You Do a Great Disservice in Keeping Him Distanced And Hidden Away."

Shockwave momentarily flicks his attention towards the other Decepticon, keeping an audio on the Cassettes while the two continue pestering his creation, "I Do Not Trust The Other Soldiers. They Would Reveal Perceptor Only To Gain Favor With Lord Megatron."

"The Sooner You Reveal Your Project, The Less Likely Megatron Will React Unfavorably To You Hiding This From Him."

"True." Frenzy and Rumble literally sprawl in Perceptor's lap when the microscope retreats to his seat at the head of the table and the pile labeled data pads, the two Cassettes clambering up the taller mech's legs and plopping into his lap, making Shockwave's creation as their favorite resting spot while they bicker with a very unamused Laserbeak, "I Will Inform Lord Megatron…In Time."

* * *

Perceptor's frame continues to grow. Soon, within several vorns, he would develop into a mature Cybertronian.

The microscope was more confident within his own body now, no longer moving with an gangly gait, restlessly shifting his too long arms and awkward legs. Quiet and composed, he remains at Shockwave's side unless the larger mech meets with Lord Megatron or the squad commanders, the Guardian still wary to leave him without a chaperone.

Shockwave especially does not allow Perceptor to wander anywhere on base alone, the Autobots too quiet as of late, their disappearance making the Guardian agitated, ordering the guards to run more sweeps around the perimeter.

"Sir?" Perceptor stands at attention at the Guardian's turned back, biting his lip at interrupting his creator's internal musing. Shockwave's optic adhered to the video screen.

"What Is It?"

"S-squad leader T-Talon sent you a message." Perceptor carefully hands the data pad to Shockwave, ginger optics narrowed in concern, "I'm sorry…I didn't read it, but I thought it was urgent enough to personally deliver the message since the drones were looking for you."

Shockwave accepts the pad, holding the data screen below optic level, scanning its contents.

Perceptor winces when Shockwave's fingers curl into the data pad's sides, the plastic and metal groaning at the pressure.

"S-Shockwave?"

"…It Is Nothing." Shockwave contradicts his answer by throwing the data pad against the farthest wall, the data pad shattering to pieces. Perceptor shrinking and covering his helm, crying out softly at the Guardian's unusual portrayal of distemper.

"**Leave**." Perceptor immediately complies, tripping in his hurry to escape his creator.

Once the door slams shut, Shockwave smashes his fists onto the computer terminal, ruthlessly breaking the key pads.

Megatron…Lord Megatron and his crew had been lost once taking chase after the _Ark_. Both ships caught within the maelstrom of a sudden meteor shower, followed by a crash landing upon an unknown planet.

This disruption could ruin a vast majority of his plans. But he would need to be patient…He knew his duties. The Guardian knew that he would remain loyal to the Decepticon cause. Acting as overseer, watching over Cybertron and digging out the Autobot infestation little by little…

Until his Lord Megatron returned in glorious conquest.

* * *

Perceptor keeps his distance, not wishing to test his creator's temper. He stayed in the farthest reaches of the tower, outside of Shockwave's usual labs or quarters. He does not anticipate encountering the Guardian, expecting to only perhaps stumbling across an odd drone or two.

It comes to a great deal of surprise when Perceptor steps out of his new quarters, to literally smash into a stranger.

"W-Who?" Perceptor's ginger optics blink in confusion, the young mech bumping against the wall after smashing into the older scuffed green mech, "Who are you?"

The red stenciled insignia upon the mech's chassis is noted immediately.

Perceptor gasps in fright when the mech snags his wrist, the young mech wincing, never before having been manhandled or harmed in any manner; the Autobot's harsh hand causing him to wince.

"The question is: _who_ are **you**?" Kup demands.

"Y-You're hurting me!" Perceptor jostles to push his aggressor away.

"Are you a Neutral?" Kup pins the struggling mech by the shoulders, not finding any Decepticon ― or Autobot insignia ― that addresses the young mech's loyalties. "Are you a prisoner?"

"No!"

"Then why are you here!"

"I am.." Perceptor ducks his helm, "Shockwave is my creator!"

The Autobot's stunned horror is obvious when his grip slackens ever so slightly. "Impossible…"

Perceptor tries to escape when the Autobot's grip loosens, but Kup quickly reels him back. "I know what _you_ are!" Perceptor gasps, "Autobot! Enemy!"

"I'm sure _Shockwave _taught you that." Kup growls.

"Yes…" Perceptor tugs feebly at his trapped wrists, "Sir Shockwave raised and taught me well. Autobots are the enemy. Aggressors. A threat."

"And Decepticons are the gifts of Primus himself, I'm sure."

Perceptor opens his mouth, but halts, "I…d-don't know…S-Shockwave speaks little of Lord Megatron. Less that he speaks of Autobots."

"Why?"

"B-because such matters are not my concern."

"_**Why?"**_

"Because that is my creator's wish, and as he deems it so, my place is here with him, to follow his command!" Perceptor snaps back in frustration at the Autobot's constant demands for a suitable answer, "And his command is for me to not be concerned with this war. Shockwave does not wish for me to become involved with such scuffles."

"Shockwave this. Shockwave that." Kup spits in disgust, "Apparently he can do no wrong."

The struggling young mech surprises him by stilling within his grasp, anger fading, a slight cherubic smile lighting his dark features. "Shockwave is _everything_." His ginger gaze flickers to Kup, "What else could I possibly require beyond my creator?"

Kup shudders at the blind devotion. His processor screaming in alarm, horrified at how well Shockwave has programmed this young mech for unwavering loyalty. "You can't stay here." The soldier drags the confused mech towards him, "Shockwave has blinded you with half-baked truths and cruel lies…turned you into his…his _servant_."

"B-but I do not wish to leave Shockwave.." Perceptor fails to respond quickly to physically wrestle against the mech's aggressive actions, struggling half-sparked as he awkwardly follows the stronger Autobot, "Please. I wish to remain here with my creator―"

"No! You're coming with me before―"

From the other end of the hall, a security drone bellows in alarm at the sight of the Autobot intruder.

Immediately, the sirens begin to sound throughout the tower.

Kup throws Perceptor to the floor and shields the smaller mech with his larger frame as the drone's frame shifts, and its chassis reveals a concealed blaster, before firing at the two mechs.

"No! Stop!" Perceptor covers his face as hot flakes of burning metal and panels fall of the ceiling and scorched walls, "Do not fire!"

"Don't bother!" Kup pulls the fearful microscope to stand upright, "Shockwave's drones are programmed to shift into aggressive actions when the alarm is sounded!"

"You're wrong!" Perceptor is nearly lifted off his pedes as the Autobot races down the hall, turning a corner and yanking the microscope around, both mechs narrowly avoiding another stray shot, "T-the drones..I've repaired them myself..They're only maintenance units…S-Shockwave isn't l-like that―"

He screams in fright as a huge fist punches through the wall across from them. A huge metal guard unit bursting through the crumbling barrier. The alpha security drone narrowing its ruby optic upon the two mechs, categorizing the Autobot and unknown Cybertronian as the intruders.

"Move!" Kup jerks them aside to avoid another large blast, the much bigger drone barely responding to the Autobot's return fire, the blasts doing nothing more than scorching the plating of its massive chassis.

"S-Sir Shockwave!" Perceptor begs for his creator to appear and disperse the chaos, the young mech quietly beseeching the Guardian to rescue him whilst being forced to follow the Autobot, Kup never releasing his reluctant partner.

From the corner of his optic, Perceptor catches the shine of light across dark metal plating. Another large drone stands hidden in a bisecting corridor, and is raising his blaster hand to fire at Kup's turned back strut. Reacting compulsively, even for his enemy, Perceptor shouts in warning.

"Watch out!" Pushing the larger Autobot out of the path of the weapon's fire.

A shriek of agony and molten pain races up his back strut, the microscope arching as the blast pierces his lower torso.

Kup curses, firing at the drone, nailing their attacker through the single optic. The drone reels, clutching its ruined facial plates.

The Autobot catches Perceptor's limp frame as the young mech drops to the ground, Kup shouting for the microscope to respond, the mech's ginger optics mere pinpoints within a canvas of black, energon pouring from the gaping wound, draining from his ravaged body to form a large lake upon the hallway floor.

"Slaggit to the Pit!" Kup carefully gathers the bleeding mech into his arms, lifting the unresisting frame, jerking his head up as answering blaster shots pour from the nearest corridor. The old soldier recognizing the shouts and voices of his companions finally rejoining Kup, the raid successful, "Hold on, kid!" Kup pleads for the young microscope to stay online, the ginger optics feebly staying alight as the Autobot races towards the squad, shouting for a medic and an immediate evac.

* * *

Shockwave's drones scatter, several literally scattered about in a tumble of shredded pieces as the remaining try to avoid the Guardian's wrath.

A low, bass howl races up the Guardian's chassis, sweeping his large arms across the lab tables. Spilling precious liquid test tubes and data files as the pours his rage throughout the room.

The video feed had shown how the Autobots had invaded his stronghold. Valuable data stolen, his drones terminating a few, but the surprise assault left many unaware of the exact location of the Autobots within the tower.

His own drones had fired at his creation…

The memory file of his creation stumbling as a blast ripped through his back dragged another howl from the Guardian. That particular drone missing its helm, seared from its shoulders when Shockwave located the loyal mech, cruelly grasped its large skull cap, and buried his blaster hand into the fragile wires of its neck and **fired**.

"No No No No." Shockwave moans, hands shaking in front of his distinctive face, "Not Him. Not What Is Mine…"

His programming can not handle the influx of emotions that flood his systems. The Guardian incapable of assimilating his response to his creation's capture and injury.

That vile cur ― '_Kup', _his processor growls the hated mech's designation ― dared to lay his worthless hands on his creation..Dragging Perceptor from the safety of the tower and in front of the barrel scope of one of his security drones.

Shockwave turns to face the doors as his raging is interrupted, another large security drone unit dragging a few stray Autobots into the room. Not part of the small unit that had invaded the tower earlier, but the two struggling Autobots had been sighted skulking around a latest energon shipment.

Sighting the hated blue optics…the azure gaze, not unlike that wretch Kup..Autobots. The thieves…little thieves…stealing and grabbing with their little hands, taking his precious creation...

Shockwave is swallowed by an immeasurable on pour of unsurpassed **hatred**. Processor babbling for retribution.

The smaller of the two Autobot prisoners whimpers as the Guardian grips his face, dragging his cruel fingers down the pale paint. Shockwave shuddering, cursing that abhorrent color.

"Such Distasteful Blue Optics.." Shockwave hisses, bending the mech's neck almost to the breaking point, "I Can Not Stand To Look Upon Them. How They _Taunt_ Me."

The prisoner shrieks in agony as Shockwave plunges his thumb through the first lens. Energon and oil snaking thick tears and components down his face.

The other prisoner shudders and rattles with terror as Shockwave continues, tearing the other optical lens and rolling eye ball component from its casing.

"Do Not Waste Your Efforts With Weeping." Shockwave flicks the gobs of shredded wires and clotted oil from his fingers while the prisoner continues to wail, "Your Kind Does Not Deserve Mercy After What You Have Taken From Me."

"S-S-stop!! Please!!"

"An Experiment, I Believe, Is In Order." Shockwave ponders out loud. Ignoring his guests' pleas and curses, "I Wonder What Makes Autobots Tick? A Dissection Is In Order, Wouldn't You Agree?" His guests' wails are his answer.

* * *

He is at a loss, now. Rummaging through the soaked remains of the prisoners spread out upon the medical berths, he feebly aligns the shredded joints and torn sockets, before discarding once more. Incapable of finding the desire to continue.

Lord Megatron is gone. His creation…lost as well. Shockwave does not even know if Perceptor has been deactivated.

His large chassis gusts in a sigh. What to do, now? The hollow ache that rests in his chassis unnerves him. The loss of his creation stirring very unfamiliar sensations…emotions he never wished to encounter in the first place.

Perhaps he could sever these feelings by creating another…

* * *

"Why Will This Not Work?" Shockwave growls his annoyance, watching the test tube and the pathetic life form shrivel into nothing. Hardly lasting a joor since he planted a small spark into its tiny form.

Where had he gone wrong? He meticulously repeated the same sequence as he had done with Perceptor. Yet time and again, his specimens failed. None surviving.

Shockwave looked to his many data pads, trying to find some sort of answer in their hidden depths. What was he missing? This failure could not continue. Too many precious materials were being wasted with each failed attempt!

It is only when many vorns pass that finally, he surrenders to the inevitable. Locking the data files behind secured fire walls, he closes the project.

His precious data lost to cyberspace. Far more invaluable, his creation disappeared into the unknown, online or not. He would probably never learn of his creation's fate.

'_Damn You.'_ He does not know who he curses. Himself, for foolishly embarking in the experiment? Kup and his pathetic comrades for stealing his creation…

Or does he curse Perceptor for making him care so much for a being that had simply started its existence as a mere curiosity, but resulting in a strange attachment that the Guardian can not shake?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Unforeseen Affliction (2/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Fandom: G1.

Rating: Mature. Slash hints.

Pairing: Shockwave/Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: This fic deals with a significant deal of psychological extremes: obsession, paranoia, rage, and wrath; mainly Shockwave's out of norm behavior resolving around one of his earliest creations, and the loss of his creation. Some readers may be a little bit uncomfortable with Shockwave's behavior, mainly his mounting obsession and, shall we say, developing insanity…

* * *

Millions upon millions of stellar cycles weigh the Guardian. Vigilant even while in repose, Shockwave's attention never strays too far from the communication terminal.

Loyally awaiting his master to summon for him.

When the time arrives, and Lord Megatron beckons, Shockwave immediately complies. Glad for the distraction from his exile, the Autobot rats that continue to scavenge Cybertron and nip at his attention, and the far more…draining memory files that continue to plague him during the night cycles.

The Space Bridge is an invaluable tool between the Earth and Cybertron. Energon finally a frequent supply, enough that Shockwave and the remaining Decepticons need not salvage what they can from the scavenged carcasses of other Autobots and few Decepticon fatalities.

Still, Shockwave forces his hand. Rationing the energon, and properly securing the storage facilities.

He would enjoy watching the Autobots just try and break into the units. Let them find out for themselves the clever traps he has laid for them.

Shockwave trusts that his leader will continue whatever he can to constantly supply Shockwave with energon, but the Guardian also knows that his Lord must deal with the Autobot scourge.

While his master fights, Shockwave plans. Studying the many solar systems and proper planetary systems. Devising which orbiting planets will be suitable for harvesting energon. Even better, which planets that he may lay the seeds of his research, where in many vorns a flux of replenishing energon will be at Decepticon disposal.

But those plans will take **many** orns before they come into fruition.

Nevertheless, as Shockwave has always proven, he is forever patient. Silently waiting his opportunity, watching as his plans slowly develop until it is time to act.

In the back of his processor, he is running over several theses while he watches the recordings from Soundwave's Cassettes, the recent Autobot activity on Earth requiring Shockwave's input on how to respond and organize a counterstrike.

Shockwave adds his assessment to a list of data that is streaming live to Lord Megatron. His opinion surrounding Optimus Prime's fighting style is not so different from his Lord's. Prime is confident, but not overly arrogant, which is a pity since it would save the Decepticon forces if the Autobot leader was an incompetent buffoon. He showed great skills, a good fighter, but also negative aspects such as his wariness to keep his opponents from getting too close, as close combat grappling was not his greatest battle strength.

The Guardian adds further comments about Prime's second and third in commands, countering Lord Megatron's input by warning Lord Megatron that the greatest weapon in the Autobot arsenal was the Autobot loyalty to their comrades. Frequently Prime's commanding officers would intercept an underhanded strike to the semi-truck's back strut, usually using their own frames a shield to defend their glorified leader. Even the Autobot medic was recorded striking Thundercracker before the Seeker could draw too close, sending the Decepticon crashing head over pedes with a well executed jump front kick straight to his cockpit!

What the Decepticons lacked in great measure, in comparison to their foes, was loyalty among all subordinates, especially in deference to their commanding leader. The rifts that divided the Decepticons were painfully obvious. Teams isolating themselves willingly from one another…The Seekers were isolated from the Stunticons and Combaticons. The Coneheads abhorred Starscream's trine. On a bi-weekly basis Starscream attempts to overthrow Lord Megatron. The list went on and on.

In Optimus Prime's group, besides the skirmishes and bickering that naturally occurred due to forced occupation within one ship and close quarters, the soldiers still remained loyal to their leader. Further noted, they stanchly stood firm at each other's back. A handful of Decepticons could say the same about their brethren.

Shockwave shares his concerns with Lord Megatron, while keeping his optic on the smaller viewing window minimized on the monitor screen as he converses with his Lord, both mechs watching the same video feed while they share their opinions.

A flash of red and cobalt paint causes Shockwave to hesitate momentarily during his speech.

Another flicker, this time the image far more pronounced that Shockwave quickly freezes the image.

"Shockwave?" Lord Megatron pauses, noting the Guardian's averted attention, "I am not **boring** you, am I?"

"No, Lord Megatron." Shockwave raises his hands in subservience to sooth his Lord's spark of ire, "Something…Has Merely Grasped My Attention On The Recording."

Megatron's attention flickers to the stilled image. Observing the picture of the red and cobalt figure stumbling backwards, away from one of the Constructicons during the last battle.

"The scientist?" Megatron scowls, "What of him?"

"…Nothing." Shockwave finally answers. "He…Looks Familiar."

The Guardian knows that his answer proves less than successful in assuring his master, but Megatron deigns to ignore Shockwave's error.

They finalize their assessment, and Megatron is immediately the first to shut down the communication link once the meeting is concluded.

Shockwave waits a long while, to ascertain that his Lord will not require him within the near future, while he compiles a terse message and data streams his commands, ordering the maintenance and security drones to leave him in peace unless there is a dire reason to consult the Guardian.

Left to his own devices, Shockwave maximizes the window, the frozen image filling the entirety of the wide screen.

Shakily, Shockwave raises his hand. Capturing the stilled face underneath his hands, as if to cage the familiar dark face. Hissing in alarm at the unfamiliar optical glass color, the familiar ginger optics seared away instead by a repulsive, indistinguishable blue marking the mech of Autobot loyalties…

And yet regardless of the azure color masking the ginger color that had adorned the mech's optics so many vorns ago, the face will never lie, those dark features tugging at his memory files that he locked away tight in a massive vault lieges deep within his processor.

"_Perceptor." _His vents breathe the designation, the ache pooling within his chassis once after after settling dormant ― resting in frigid slumber ― for so many vorns.

* * *

Soundwave's battle mask does not adequately contain his guilt, no matter how stiffly the technopath tries to conceal his reaction whilst he stands in front of the video screen.

"You **Knew**." Shockwave paces in front of the monitor, whipping around to glare a baleful golden optic at his fellow Decepticon, "You Didn't Bother To Inform Me That My Creation is _Online. _And Far Beneath You To Admit That You And He Reside On The Same Planet!"

"Ravage: Divulged Identity." The Decepticon slowly admits, "Olfactory Sensors Do Not Lie. He Is Perceptor. And Yet…Not As We Once Knew."

"The Autobots," Shockwave hisses, helm shaking left and right, as if to search for the threat of his enemy, wildly surveying the wall of monitor screens that surround him, each filled with large and small windows of his creation, various frozen images of Perceptor during battle. An art gallery spread before him, taunting the Guardian with the presence of his creation, yet keeping him so far beyond his reach, "A Memory Wipe? I Watched Perceptor Fall From A Shot To The Back. Perhaps The Damage Resulted In Corruption Of His Memory Files?"

"Your Insinuation: A Possibility." Soundwave agrees.

"What Am I To Do?" Shockwave ponders. Hand drumming atop the table as he contemplates his possible actions in regards to this revelation, "I **Must **Have Him Back. I Will Not Accept That He Remains With The Autobots."

"What **Can** Be Done?" Soundwave inquires, "Perceptor: Not A Soldier. However, Disappearance Or Capture Would Be Noted. Transportation To Cybertron: Less Success Than The Chance Of Acquiring Your Creation."

"Do You Have The Coordinates For The Next Appearance Of The Space Bridge?"

"Destination: Confirmed."

"Then Ascertain That My Creation Will Appear On The Battle Field At The Time You Have Prepared The Energon Shipment." Shockwave coolly instructs his fellow Decepticon, "I Will Take Care Of The Rest."

"This…" Soundwave halts before he continues, but once again bold enough to speak, "This Is Very Unwise, Whatever You Are Planning."

"I Am Confident In My Abilities."

Soundwave's optical band shines as he stares for a long, silent moment at the Guardian, before answering, "Confidence Is Lacking: Not On Your Skills. Your Control: More Concerning. You Are Restless. _Agitated_. He Is Not The Same Mech You Created. What Will You Do When He Fails To Respond In Such A Manner?"

"Worry About Your End," Shockwave curtly severs the technopath's concerns with the swift slice of his hand through the air. He did not have the endurance it would take to quiet the Decepticon's apprehension, nor does he wish to make the time to ease them either, "Everything Will Prove Successful."

"For Your Sake, You Should Hope." Soundwave warns forebodingly, "Should Lord Megatron Stumble Across Your Intent, You May Have More To Concern Yourself With Than The Wellbeing And Acquisition Of Your Creation."

Shockwave cuts off the video image by stabbing the power button, shutting down the communication like a slap to the technopath's face, the Guardian unapologetic about his reaction, after he is already tiring of the direction of their conversation.

Regardless of the other Autobot's opinions, Soundwave will undoubtedly trust in Shockwave's judgment. All the Guardian can do now is place his trust in Soundwave's servos and hope that the mech does not lose his focus when the opportunity was ripe.

* * *

The battlefield was utter chaos. Perceptor ducked his helm as a Decepticon flew above, twisting into bipedal form and pouncing upon one of the Dinobots, the large Autobot roaring and hurling the smaller opponent over his shoulder.

"They're prepping the shipment for the Bridge!" Ironhide shouts, pointing the barrel of his blaster in the direction of the Constructicons loading the last of the energon cubes.

"Too late!" The visored black and white officer warns, catching the roar of the shuttle as its engines fire, preparing to fly into the Space Bridge's open terminal and deliver the precious cargo to the Decepticon Guardian. Jazz is swiftly and suddenly yanked aside by his bondmate, Prowl guarding his back and immediately pulling the saboteur out of range of a cheap attack just as Blast Off tries to punch a hole through the distracted black and white mech's chassis. "Thanks!" Jazz grins, before smashing the butt of his rifle across the Combaticon's face, earning a roar from the angry mech.

Perceptor also notes that the shuttle powers on, the Decepticons hurrying away as the energon carrier races towards the Space Bridge. The shuttle screeches to a halt within the safe perimeter of the Bridge's terminal, successfully managing to reach the haven of the ring, the pillar of light and spiraling rocks signaling the transfer of the energon cubes to Cybertron.

"Another batch of energon sent straight to the 'Cons and old Shockwave." Ironhide growls in disgust.

Perceptor shivers at the odd cold shudder that tickles up his back strut at the mention of the Decepticon Guardian.

Suddenly there is the warning of "Back up! Everyone back up!" as Trailbreaker and Hound race away from the Stunticons, the Decepticon team beginning the transformation sequence to form Menasor while Autobot and Decepticon scatter to flee the massive metal beast as he roars, throwing his helm back to bellow up towards the clouded sky, hands raised above his head and cleaving through the air as if to split apart the heavens above before the behemoth smashes back onto the ground, flexing like a large panther; snarling at the small Cybertronian mechs that run circles around his larger form, Menasor growling in rage at their milling around like _insects_.

Perceptor is quick to follow the other Autobots' lead to make a hasty retreat before Menasor's unevenly welded, savaged processor ― the Stunticons' systems compatible but their confused, unsynchronized processors battling brother against brother as they try to work together and harness control over their large alternate form― turns its attention towards its directive of destroying the Autobots.

But before he manages to make it across the field, still unsettlingly close to the Space Bridge and the hulking Decepticon combiner team, the scientist is screeching to a running halt when Ravage and her brothers cut across his path.

"Please step aside!" Perceptor sidesteps, but Rumble and Frenzy pounce in response. The microscope instinctively jerking back, not wishing for the smaller Decepticons to get too close, especially Rumble with his pile drivers bared menacingly.

"Sorry about this, big guy!" Frenzy and Rumble suddenly alter their course, backpedaling.

Perceptor stutters to a halt, not realizing who is looming behind him.

Soundwave curls his hand around Perceptor's wrist, swinging the defenseless mech around, spinning him away from the retreating Autobots and in the direction of the silent Space Bridge.

"Perceptor!" Wheeljack alerts the other soldiers by yelling the microscope's designation, the engineer batting at the lunging Laserbeak, covering his optics while he tries desperately to reach the separated mech.

Perceptor is hastily backing away as the technopath steps towards him. The scientist's blaster shaking between his curled hands, before the Decepticon casually bats the weapon away.

"Do Not Bother Wielding A Weapon That You Will Not Fire." The cassette player warns.

The microscope shudders, backing up another step, optics never leaving the danger slowly moving towards him, the Decepticon blocking his escape and preventing him from returning to his comrades.

Soundwave's visor band lifts minutely, suddenly looking over the Autobot's scope. "_**You**_? You Dare…What Are You Doing Here?" He demands, glaring at the sudden intrusion, red gaze locking onto the interloper.

Perceptor does not have a chance to verbally respond. His posture stiffening when Soundwave's helm raises ever so slightly, optical band focusing on another shadow lurking behind the microscope, the large figure stepping out of the reactivated Space Bridge while the battle field upturned as Autobots and Decepticons fled from the roaring Menasor and his opponent Superion. Wheeljack still screaming for Perceptor, his companions trying to circle the massive combatants and make their way towards their hapless friend.

Perceptor balks as a thick arm surrounds him, pinning his arms against his torso. He shouts in fear, pedes kicking in midair as he is lifted. Twisting and jerking his helm around, his fuel tank drops when he recognizes the massive lavender mech holding him prisoner.

**Shockwave**.

But how…why!? Wasn't the Guardian on Cybertron acting as overseer for Megatron's empire? How could he possibly be here?

He flails and cries out as Shockwave begins to drag him back towards the Space Bridge. The microscope swiftly detecting the other's intent, immediately screaming for his Autobot commander in panic, _**"Optimus!"**_

Optimus Prime rears away from Megatron, kicking out with one leg to land a solid blow against the large silver mech's stomach plating. Helm whipping in the direction of the desperate cry.

"Stop him! Someone stop him!" Ratchet and Wheeljack are drive piled by the Constructicons as they try and beat a path through the throng of roiling Decepticons, "Perceptor!"

Perceptor pleads and cries out in misery, kicking and twisting his bound arms, his Decepticon captor finally managing to heave his struggling package into the center of the Bridge's terminal ring, while Perceptor watching in terror as the wide doors of the Space Bridge slam shut, cutting off his friends from his sight.

"No!!"

Weightless as the warping sequence commences once more, Perceptor curls in tight against his captor as wind and rubble begin to tornado around them. With a deep wrenching tug, as if the winds were trying to yank his fuel tank out of his chassis, the Space Bridge transports its passengers, lighting their path with a pillar of light, spearing the rolling clouds above them, and lightning racing ahead as an arrow to guide their trajectory.

* * *

Perceptor drops onto his hands and knees as he stumbles out of the Space Bridge terminal on Cybertron deep inside the Guardian's tower, wincing as his fuel tank struggles to retain its regular settings, the harsh travel a sharp assault on his systems.

Awkwardly he crawls forward, scrabbling away as the other mech's footsteps draw close, the doors to the Space Bridge terminal sealing and locking tight.

The microscope digs his fingers into the hand that encircles around the back of his neck, lifting him onto his knees. Stuttering and crying out to be released from the Decepticon's grip.

"Do Not Struggle Further." Shockwave directs the kicking and scratching mech. "Cease This Ridiculous Behavior, Perceptor."

His creation amazes him with his audacity, screaming and flailing wildly no matter how carefully the Guardian manhandles the smaller mech, trying to lessen the chances of bruising his plating or harming him.

He had several plans in mind that held an eighty six percent chance of causing psychological damage to his creation's processor, and he did not wish to escalate the percentage by unintentionally harming the microscope before the first procedure can begin.

But, oh…how hard it is to remain stern but silent, while the changes upon his creation are so glaringly obvious: The red faction symbol…those damning, vile blue optics that haunt him while his creation looks upon him in confusion, horror…and unwavering revulsion. Never for a moment recognizing the creator who locks him within the embrace of thicker arms and unwavering resolve as he drags his resisting creation down the long halls and towards the Medical Bay where he will begin to repair the damage that the Autobots have dared to enact upon his creation.

"R-Release me!" Perceptor violently thrashes, scratching the paint of the Decepticon's wrist as Shockwave lifts him onto a berth. The microscope attempts to throw himself off the metal bed, but thick silver bands snap around his waist and knees, the elastic coils binding his wrists and holding them flat against the berth surface.

"Such Distasteful Conduct." Shockwave disapproves his creation's thrashing about, pushing the Autobot's chassis down as the microscope jerks and thrusts his bulk against the constricting bands that tie him down onto the berth, "I Am Very Unhappy With Your Behavior, Perceptor."

"S-Stop!"

But Shockwave continues to trace his hands up and down the heaving chassis. Fingers twitching as they outline the stenciled red symbol upon the microscope's plating.

"_Autobot." _The Guardian hisses, fingertips curling, drawing a mournful pained cry when strips of curling paint snag jagged ribbons between the Decepticon's fingers, "You Allowed Them To Brand You. To Mar Your Dermal Layers."

"It was my choice…" Perceptor shivered, "a-and why should you care about what has been done to my paintwork?"

Shockwave ignores the prisoner's demands to answer. Instead continuing to catalogue the changes that have occurred to his oblivious creation. A trembling quake of anger spiking, illogically scrambling his processor as he finally admits to the greatest of all terrible changes, "Your Optics…" Hands trapping Perceptor's twisting helm, fingers outlining the wide, unfamiliar Easter egg blue, "What. Have. You. **Done**?"

His creation wilts beneath his hands, trying to twist his face from underneath the harsh curled fingers.

Shockwave can not allow this. The tips of his fingers scratch down the hated optical glass as he cringes in disgust, cutting jagged, raised rough scars across the even blue windows. Perceptor jolting, bucking helplessly as the pain lances across the sensitive receptor circuits nudging the surface of the optical glass.

The Guardian paws fitfully at the stubborn glass, resolutely ignoring the microscope's whimpers and cries, undeterred from his quest to rid himself of the sight of that disgusting blue stained glass. Marring Perceptor's dark facial features with streak of lavender from his scratched paint as he painstakingly claws with frightful patience at the stubborn fixtures.

A hot gush of magma-intense pain erupts when one optical glass panel finally pops free with a low screech of snapping metal, a few stray wires stretching and tearing as Shockwave tears the optical glass away. Perceptor shrieking in agony, a flood of clear lubricant and beads of oil from his damaged circuits spilling forth from the gapping socket, while the pearl and silver optical orb rolling skyward, awash by the pools of fluids filling the cavern of the torn socket.

Shockwave murmurs for his creation to shush, petting and nuzzling the sobbing mech, smearing the dark fluid of oil up Perceptor's helm and neck whilst he massages the cringing mech's taut cables and tossing head. "Try To Bear It A Little Longer." He follows his assurance with the gesture of popping the other optical glass panel free of its mounting; delicately wiping away the thick was of lubricant and oil that follows. Lifting the gore slicked remains, glaring at the innocuous plates, curling his hand and crushing the opaque blue plates within his fist, the crumbled dust spilling to dress the floor.

The continuous pulsing throb of his gapping sockets overrules all of his senses. Perceptor numb to anything else that transpires, even while Shockwave scours the ruby symbol stenciled upon his chassis, the Guardian perseveres with scrapping away the red layers. "Disgusting," The Decepticon sneers, glaring at the red paint that insists in coating his fingers, "Filthy, Wretched Disgusting Thing," Distastefully he drags his fingers along the gray edge of the berth, scrapping away the offending paint.

Perceptor's vocoder garbles a wash of static, mouth spread in a silent scream, head lolling, arching as his neural receptors flare wide in agony, torn sockets and scratched optical balls leaving him technically blind except for the rare slice of the image of the ceiling looming above him, or the outline of the Decepticon Guardian leaning over him.

The Guardian approves of the fresh changes, though not completely enough to satisfy him for the moment, it has successfully cooled his rage. The Decepticon drawing a measurable deal of pleasure at removing the offending colors, one further step to reaffirming Perceptor returning to his creator once more.

"Well Done, Perceptor." Shockwave congratulates his creation's success in lasting the procedure ― The Guardian having a sparse moment of regret that he did not anticipate nor deem to acquire anesthesia in order to ensure the microscope greater ease through the procedure ― but instead he focuses on ceasing the mech's low, weak cries, Perceptor's blind gaze instinctively tilting away from the invasive energy field marking the large presence of the Decepticon as he leans over the strapped down Autobot, "I Am So Very Proud Of You."

Perceptor shudders at the endearment, lubricants trickling from the dark maw of his optical sockets, helm twisted away, trying to ignore the patient, coaxing whispers and the lengthy strokes of the mech's hand as the Decepticon pets the shivering Autobot.

The Guardian traces his hand up the mech's arched throat, probing the hidden seam, "Relax." He soothes, thrusting two fingers forward and flicking the barely discernable switch nestled beneath the thick cables.

The flick of the switch prompts the microscope to stiffen like a board, before then dropping back limp upon the medical berth.

"Rest While I Continue With Repairs." Shockwave's final command follows the microscope as he plummets into stasis, the corners of his processor folding in upon itself until…

_STASIS IMMINENT_.

the pain is nothing, and there is no fear, and then―

_STASIS LOCK ENGAGED._

And then―

To Be Continued


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Unforeseen Affliction (3/?)

Author: dreamerchaos

Fandom: G1.

Rating: Mature. Slash hints.

Pairing: Shockwave/Perceptor.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro.

Summary: This fic deals with a significant deal of psychological extremes: obsession, paranoia, rage, and wrath; mainly Shockwave's out of norm behavior resolving around one of his earliest creations, and the loss of his creation. Some readers may be a little bit uncomfortable with Shockwave's behavior, mainly his mounting obsession and, shall we say, developing insanity…

* * *

Perceptor onlined two orns after the second procedure. Shakily sitting up, he finds that his bonds were released, allowing him to move freely while the microscope awkwardly touches his face and chassis, noting the absence of the Autobot brand, the heightened sensors on his fingertips discovering no grooves or damage remaining around his new optical panels.

Glancing up from his lap, he catches a glimmer of his reflected twin across from his seat upon the medical berth.

Staring at the stranger looking back, his visage gracing the gleaming mirror reflection of the medical bay's wall.

Trembling, his fingers circle the unfamiliar ginger glass, glowing like ominous, eerie moons upon the darker sky of his stunned dark face.

Perceptor jolts when a stout maintenance drone beeps for his attention, standing with rigid poise beside the tall berth. The metal creature's stubbly arms managing to precariously balance a wide tray, a single cube of energon resting on its center.

The drone beeps again, nudging the microscope with the offered tray, seemingly inquiring if the mech requires refueling.

Perceptor can not stomach the thought, his fuel tank churning and twisting tight in warning with a threat to purge his systems if he dares to sup, his rattled neural sensors too spiked to handle any fluid sustenance.

"No." Perceptor carefully brushes the tray away, earning a rebuking hoot from the offended maintenance drone, "I don't want anything from you."

Hunched over, sitting upon the opposite side of the berth facing away from the discouraged drone and curling his arms around himself, Perceptor focuses upon the floor. Analyzing the smooth scratches of the metal tiles and the few persistent stains of oil that refuse to be removed, no matter how frequently the drones insist upon sanitizing the room.

A sharp trill and the thick edge of the metal tray appears, this time to bump against his elbow.

"I said no!" Perceptor snaps, his hand instinctively flashing to the side to push the persistent drone away. Accidently knocking the drone too hard, upsetting its grip.

The drone squeals in alarm, the tray wind milling between its flailing arms, the energon cube flung forward, the sturdy tray smashing with a sound of a pealed gong into the nearest monitoring screen terminal and sloshing the glowing lavender fluid across the floor and the precisely arranged equipment settled around Perceptor's berth.

The maintenance drone whoops in distress, arms flapping wildly as its motorized wheels send its body spinning in tight circles, slipping upon the spilt energon, its cries inciting several recharging maintenance drones to come online as well. The smaller metal beings rushing to adjourn with the distressed drone, nozzles flashing on one's forearms as it quickly settles into washing away the spilled energon, while the other drone reveals a long nozzle with a quiet vacuum, the suction removing most of the excess fluid as the final drone steadily wipes a clean white rag upon the floor to prevent the spill from staining the tile.

Perceptor jumps off the berth, immediately making his way towards the closed door, "I don't wish to stay here…" The microscope regrets the scene that he has caused, but he is too weary to apologize or address his actions.

The door hushes open when he approaches.

Sadly, not in response to any proximity sensors alerted by Perceptor's approach.

Blocking the doorway, Shockwave's single optic scans the improvements upon his creation's frame. Stretching a hand forward, not acknowledging the mech's slight flinch when he runs his thumb underneath the new, gleaming optical glass. "Much Better." Shockwave approves.

Perceptor hides his face by ducking his trembling helm, but can not escape the probing fingers that map his cheek and mandible, possessively cataloguing the most miniscule of repairs, even to the trivial scratches or patches of dull paint. Shockwave a fanatic about detail, having spent most of the previous orn buffing the uneven paint, or sanding down the barest of scuffs after the successful replacement of the optical glass, and once done the Guardian commences in completely repainting and smoothing the section where Perceptor's Autobot emblem had lain.

"You Have Not Refueled." Shockwave notes, disapproval evident in his tone. Cupping Perceptor's chin and nudging his face upward so that he can no longer shun the Guardian's gaze.

"I don't require anything." Perceptor's voice is hollow, but the true meaning behind his words rings clear between them. _'I don't require anything from __you__.'_

Shockwave is not satisfied with his creation's response, but decides to allow Perceptor a measure of respite. Removing his hand, he instead slides it around, curling his arm around the microscope's shoulders, pulling the reluctant mech outside the medical bay. "I Will Insist That You Rest Then, And Do Not Strain Yourself So Soon After The Procedure."

"Wh-Where are we going?" Perceptor asks, glancing unsettled as they continue to walk up higher, taking the stairs to reach the private living quarters.

"Since You Are Still Unused To My Presence, I Will Provide Makeshift Quarters Until You Are Properly Settled." Shockwave supplies, guiding down the last corridor to the chamber directly across from his own quarters, "This Will Be Your Room For The While."

Awkwardly moving under the Guardian's guiding hand ― feeling like an intruder stepping into a stranger's apartment unit ― and taking small, shy steps forward, Perceptor is coaxed into entering the room as the door slides open. The microscope slowly turning his head from side to side, digesting the details of the room.

Considering that he had anticipated remaining in a tiny, cold prison cell, this was a major improvement to his worst fears. A clean, sturdy recharge berth is set into the wall across from the doorway, a discrete portal leading to a small wash racks in the back of the room. Lining all of the remaining wall space, deep shelves reach from ceiling to floor, filled to the brim with slim, gleaming data pads. A small but incredibly dense library for the occupant's every whim and perusal.

"You Were Always Fascinated With Reading." Shockwave's voice is soft as the large Guardian is lost in his reminiscing, his own optic roving over the familiar data pads and shelves, the countless computer files carefully stored inside the room, locked up tight not too long after Perceptor's disappearance, "I Could Not Acquire The Motivation To Discard Them, No Matter How Many Times You Reread These Files."

"…I can't remember having ever laid my optics on so many." Perceptor can't help but say in awe inspired wonder, "I wonder if the great Praxon Library looked anything like this…" He marvels.

"More Data Files Than You Could Ever Accomplish Reading Within Thousands Of Vorns." Shockwave's processor recalls the mentioned Library, one of the rare few monuments of Cybertron's Golden Age that the Guardian had steadfastedly insisted remain undamaged during the raiding campaign so many years ago, "Constantly Updated By Its Main Computer, Not Even I Could Possibly Finish All Of The Library's Contents."

"I wish I could see it." Perceptor sighs with regret.

"When Lord Megatron Resides Over Cybertron," The Guardian intones, "And Cybertron Enters A New Age Under Our Glorious Master, You Shall Look Upon It With Your Own Optics."

Perceptor bites his bottom lip, stifling his betraying expression or the sound of pain in response to the notion of the Autobots falling before the warlord.

"I Will Leave You To Rest." Shockwave steps back, the door slamming shut with a low clang.

As soon as he is left alone, Perceptor carefully lowers his drained, still recovering frame to sit upon the edge of the recharge berth. Swallowing dryly, glancing about the large space and the towers of shelves.

What an amazing gilded cage Shockwave has so graciously provided him.

"It's an attractive prison cell." He whispers aloud to himself, burying his face into his hands, "But…behind its pretty shell, its skeleton is still a prison."

* * *

Shockwave is disturbed by how Perceptor refuses to refuel, no matter how insistent the maintenance drones, or his creator, push for the microscope to take sustenance.

More than once, Shockwave must drag Perceptor into the medical bay and perform a transfusion, hooking the limp body to the energon system and pumping the vital fluid into him.

The very first time Perceptor collapsed due to exhaustion, his energy levels running nearly dry, the Guardian panics, hastily tearing loose an energon cable from underneath the plating of his inner forearm, pinching the ragged end while tracing the revealed beads of energon in between Perceptor's slack lips, whispering and coaxing the mech to drink just a little in order to hold him over until the Decepticon can drag Perceptor down to the medical bay.

After nearly three joors of this behavior, the Guardian can no longer remain compliant to Perceptor's starvation.

He has had _enough_.

But what to do? Transfusions only appease for so long. Forced refueling could cause even more damage. The refusal to partake in energon was a troubling sign, Perceptor exhibiting classis symptoms of depression and shock. Already from the lack of energon ― and self-induced confinement within his rooms, no matter how frequently Shockwave attempts to entice him out to try and show Perceptor the rest of the tower to see if there was hope to jog his memory files ― the microscope's optics were a pale pumpkin glow, facial plating tinged gray from the lack of energon pooling underneath the smooth dermal layers.

Shockwave growls in consternation. He would need to find alternate means to convince Perceptor to properly refuel.

He just needed to find the right motivation. Stir the microscope's interest in _anything_, which may lead to additionally addressing the mech's resistance to refuel if he is reminded of the value of existence, to begin enjoying the little things once more and then realizing the great importance of the big picture―

―To remember that he is **home** once again, and this time Shockwave will not make the same mistake twice of losing his cherished to those Autobot wretches.

There is an entire list of things that need to be addressed. Most immediate, the refueling situation. After that, researching what may have been done to damage or alter Perceptor's memory files.

But first things first. He just needed to determine what will properly convince Perceptor to willingly refuel.

* * *

Shockwave stumbles across what may be his answer while viewing more data streaming from Earth.

He knows that he will eventually have to answer to Lord Megatron's outraged demands about his behavior on Earth, but for now the warlord is willingly to ignore his misconduct. Ordering Soundwave to continue streaming information to Cybertron for the Guardian to review.

During one of his many analyses, Shockwave is suddenly struck with the realization.

"Of Course." He whispers, optic lens narrowing in intense focus as Laserbeak's view scans across the fleeing workers running out of the electrical plant that the Decepticons are raiding.

How could he be so blind? For all of his irritation with the entire situation of his creation ensconced among the Autobots ― regardless no matter how hard he wishes to deny it ― his Perceptor has become acquainted with the smaller organics, especially familiar with the little male that followed the yellow Minibot.

Perhaps a memento of the planet Earth he had adored exploring and studying would motivate Perceptor's interests…

* * *

He must be careful, and so precise, in timing the Space Bridge and his surveillance drone, the Guardian not wishing to challenge the Bridge's schedule for energon shipments or any other of Lord Megatron's uses.

Shockwave outlays the intended target to the silent drone, the tall, supine being's intent ruby optic focused on the three-dimensional image of several examples of the bipedal organics that the Guardian shows it.

"Any Organic Will Suffice." Shockwave commands, warning the drone to follow his direction, "However, Keep Your Presence To A Minimum. The Fewer Witnesses, The Better."

The surveillance drone's long fingers curl in reaction, the sleek creation tilting its head, pondering the image, the shiny black brow over its optic arched in question.

"Exterminate Any Other Witnesses As You See Fit," Shockwave cares little, as long as the drone achieves its main objective, "As Long As You Retrieve One, Then The Discretion Is Up To You."

The drone clicks its redundant vocoder in understanding. Bowing its helm to its master, it gracefully approaches the active Space Bridge. Stepping into the terminal, solemnly standing silent and tall, its gleaming black back and shoulders awash with alabaster white light as the transport beam flashes, sending the drone to its destination.

Now all Shockwave can do is wait.

* * *

The first specimen's deliver does not go overly well. The middle aged male tumbling out of the Space Bridge terminal, the successfully drone stepping out from the terminal behind the human, looming over him as the small organic squeals in terror.

The harsh transport from Earth and Cybertron has unsettled the human's fragile internal systems. The man gagging, purging his fuel systems, the noxious waste spilling across the floor.

Shockwave is abhorrently disgusted by the mess. Utterly revolted. Reacting before he can consider the consequence, he kicks out to knock the pathetic meat bag away, his large pede smashing into the feeble rib cage, sending the organic tumbling topsy turvy.

The drone hisses at the on pour of red fluids that gush from the small meat sack, daintily stepping aside to avoid the wash of blood.

The Guardian flinches in shameful guilt at the piercing wail that punches against his back strut, the mournful sound making his shoulders curve in consternation.

He isn't reacting to the weak mewls from the twisted human, but from Perceptor, the microscope having ventured out his room for a rare walk through the tower. Daring to enter the large communication center, stepping inside as Shockwave curses the noxious waste seeping across his floor, watching in wide-optic horror as the Guardian kicks the small human away.

Perceptor throws himself over the broken human, sobbing for Shockwave to "Stop!". Helplessly holding his hands just above the injured organic, moaning in low agony as he catalogues the twisted, dislocated limbs, the spanning bruises and gashes, and the crushed rib cage.

The Guardian is dismayed by the sight of his creation mourning the human, Perceptor desperately whispering to the organic, clear lubricants trickling from his optics as he vainly tries to staunch the bleeding by pressing just the tips of his fingers to the massive wounds.

Shockwave is perversely thankful when the atmosphere rattles one final time within the human's collapsed lungs before the organic deactivates due to his injuries.

He regrets having to sedate Perceptor in order to pull the wailing microscope away from the cooling carcass. Perceptor's optics locked on his red, gore soaked hands, his creation burying his face into the Guardian's chassis when Shockwave pulls him in, wrapping his larger frame around his aggrieved creation while Perceptor's sobs fill the room.

* * *

The second specimen survives her arrival on Cybertron. Shockwave not too surprised when Perceptor snatches her up, tucking the confused, terrified organic femme against his microscope tray, shielding the shivering creature from the curious gazes of the other drone units.

However, Shockwave has failed to consider what humans need to ingest in order to remain in good function, lest they wither away and deactivate.

He can only use the Space Bridge at certain intervals outside the energon shipments, the Guardian ordering the surveillance drone to gather sustenance for the organic femme.

The drone proves less than successful; having no knowledge of what humans require, the slender drone returns to Cybertron during the next few excursions with an array of small rocks, dirt, mangled flora, a few curled deceased snakes, and one lone cactus. The tall drone not understanding why the microscope keeps insisting that these items will not refuel the emancipated femme, while the lack of sustenance is leaving obvious signs of starvation, fat reserves completely devoured by her own body's desperate fueling attempts, her ribs pushing taut against the pale pink skin of her shirt, the femme's hair lank with grease and dirt from being unwashed for so long.

Shockwave's drones attempt to bathe the starving femme, but after their attempts nearly drown the specimen, the Guardian sighs with frustration at the utter lack of competence amongst his servants and his failure to research the humans before this little plan of his went into action, the taller mech shoving the soaked, coughing organic into Perceptor's arms before retreating to his private labs, nursing a migraine.

The organic femme lasts nearly a joor before Shockwave must once again pull Perceptor away from thin, wasted human remains, sending the maintenance drones to toss the body into the furnace.

And so, yet again, Shockwave must schedule another transfusion for Perceptor, his plan having failed so far to motivate the microscope to willing drink the many energon cubes that are presented.

* * *

In a rare show of temper since Perceptor first returned to the tower after so many vorns gone, Shockwave corners the microscope inside his quarters.

"I Will Not Tolerate This Any Further," He lifts his closed fist, menacingly shaking the smaller, shrieking organic ― a much younger one compared to its predecessors within the tower ― waving the crying little boy in front of Perceptor's face, "For Every Solar Cycle That You Insist Upon Starving Yourself, I Will Instruct My Drone To Gather As Many Humans, And Bring Them To Cybertron Where I Will Terminate These…**Insects**…In Front Of Your Very Optics."

"N…No!" Perceptor gasps, covering his mouth in horror. Beseechingly reaching out to the sobbing child, but Shockwave cruelly pulls his hand out of reach.

"Comply, Perceptor, And I Will Do No Harm To This One." Shockwave adds, ignoring the stirring of annoyance when he notes that the organic has released a warm flood of liquid waste as a result of his terror, the marigold fluid running down the boy's tense lower limbs, "I Will Order Him Returned To Earth During The Next Available Time Window. He Should Last An Orn Or Two Before Being Returned In Reasonable Health."

When Perceptor stares in stunned silence, taking a moment too long to absorb the choice that the Guardian offers, Shockwave warningly tightens his hand, drawing another shriek from the organic.

"_All right!!"_ Perceptor throws himself onto his knees, bowing and supplicating for the Guardian's mercy as his hands claw at the thick plating of the mech's hips, hanging onto Shockwave as he pleads, "Enough!…I promise…I promise…please let him go..please.."

"We Are Agreed, Then." Shockwave deposits the shivering human into the capable hands of the maintenance drone standing at his back, at his right hand — the drone spraying sanitizer and expertly drying the Guardian's hand, removing the hints of waste from his palm and fingers — while indicating for the other drone to his left to approach Perceptor. The maintenance drone balancing an energon cube upon a gleaming tray, "**Drink**, Perceptor," Shockwave's tone offers no argument.

Perceptor lowers his hands from his fierce grip upon his creator, focusing on reaching for the energon cube, shakily curling his fingers around the glowing cube as he struggles to not accidently tip the cube loose due to his weak grip. Tilting his chin back, he slowly drinks the lavender fuel, his internal systems responding immediately, a hum of energy pulsing through them, levels spiking, diagnostics running at a hot pace after lying dormant for so long to conserve the remaining dregs of his strength.

When he is finished and holds out the empty cube to the waiting drone, Perceptor then blinks in surprise when another full cube is held before him, Shockwave pulling the newest addition from subspace, kept in storage while the Guardian persistently offered the cube many times before but was refused.

"_Drink."_

This second time his hands shake far less. Perceptor's fuel tank feels engorged by the time he is done, a moue of discomfort present as his malnourished form is overwhelmed with so much energon after so long without.

"You Will Recharge For No Less Than Ten Breems." Shockwave ordains, taking the second empty cube, guiding the replete form to lay back upon the berth, "Your Repair Systems Will Need The Time To Run System Diagnostics. After You Have Rested, I Will Run My Own Scans To Make Sure That Your Fitness Is Improving."

"Yes, Shockwave…" Perceptor bows in compliance to his creator's catalog of commands.

Shockwave's golden optic surveys his submissive creation. Scanning for any hint of masked defiance, appeased to find none. Offering a small apology of, "I Do This Only Because I Care About Your Well-Being."

"I wish there were other ways for you to show this."

The Guardian sighs, "In Time, You Will Not Need To Suffer Such Punishment. As Long As You Behave Accordingly."

"I don't think I truly know how I can ever appease you and your requirements." Perceptor admits his lack of confidence, "I'm not the mech that you claim me to be."

"Oh, But You Are." Shockwave brushes his hand over Perceptor's helm, and the microscope whimpers, before rolling over and buries his face into his curled arms, coiling into a loose fetal position with his back turned to his creator, "Soon, You Will Remember Everything. Everything That I Meant To You. And What You Meant To _Me_."

When Shockwave and his drones have left, Perceptor whispers hoarsely, "That's what I was afraid that you would say," Before shuddering, embracing himself as some semblance of comfort, edgily hovering on the periphery of recharge until his exhausted systems finish the cycle for him, and soon he need not worry or shiver in trepidation as he finally rests.

To Be Continued


End file.
